


Simple

by rileywrites



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 00:03:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3670017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rileywrites/pseuds/rileywrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott asks Melissa to keep an eye on Derek. He may get more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simple

It starts out simple.

Melissa is helping Scott pack for college, folding what seems like fifty black undershirts into a duffle bag and trying not to cry. He’s sorting through his books, trying to decide what to take.

"Mom, can I ask you a favor?" He says, apropos of nothing. "It’s nothing big, just… something I was thinking about."

She shrugs, tucking a gift card to Starbucks in between layers of clothing. It’ll be a nice surprise when he unpacks.

"If I can, I will, provided it’s mostly legal." The line gets a little blurry in Beacon Hills, but she doesn't bother mentioning that. "What is it?"

Scott hems and haws for a moment, setting  _Leaves of Grass_ on the ‘go’ pile and  _The Unofficial Biography of Tony Hawk_  on the ‘stay.’

"Would you mind looking in on Derek every once in a while? I know he’s a grown man with a job now and everything, but he still doesn't eat much or get out much, and I just worry, you know?" Scott pauses and turns those big puppy eyes up at her. "Please? For me?"

"Scott…" Melissa sighs, setting down the shirt she was folding and putting her hands on her hips. "Does Derek know you’re asking me this? Won’t he get suspicious?"

"Mom, he’s pack."

The boy is right. Melissa can’t abandon the one member of her son’s pack left in town. It’s bad enough that Scott’s going with Kira to UCLA, Stiles to Berkeley, Erica and Boyd to UC Irvine, and Lydia’s taking Allison with her to MIT.

"I’ll look in on him, if it will make you happy."

Scott bounds over to her and wraps her in a tight hug. “Thanks, Mom. I owe you one.”

"You owe me more than one," Melissa teases, because if she doesn't, she’ll start crying. "Now get back to work, your things won’t pack themselves."

* * *

Scott and the rest go off to school, and Melissa finds herself at loose ends. Of course, she has regular “parents of the pack” Sunday dinners with John and Chris when they can manage it, and she’s working more hours than usual to keep the lights on and gas in her car, not to mention Scott’s college payments

She runs into Derek at the grocery store about two weeks after everyone is gone. He’s standing in the canned goods aisle with what Stiles calls “a lonely-person cart.” It’s filled with frozen dinners and cans of spaghetti, and Melissa can feel her arteries clogging just looking at it.

"Now, I know you have a gut of steel and an above-average metabolism, but even people like you need to eat right," she says from her end of the aisle, chuckling when Derek startles.

Melissa startled a werewolf. It may be a first.

"I just.. I don’t…" Derek falters, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hi, Melissa."

"Hello, Derek. About that cart?"

He  _blushes_ , cheeks going pink under the perma-stubble and the tips of his ears going red. “It’s easy. I like easy.”

"You’re going to get scurvy." Melissa tuts at him, chuckling internally. "I don’t remember you eating like this when the pack was home. 

Derek shrugs. “It’s no fun cooking for one, you know?”

She knows.

Before she realizes it, Melissa has helped Derek gather the ingredients for several different meals, and they’re back at her place to christen his new casserole dishes.

"You don’t have to do this," Derek keeps saying, only stopping when Melissa threatens him with her wooden spoon.

"I know I don’t have to, Derek. I want to. Now shut up and start stirring."

His smile is small, but it’s there. Melissa can’t help her own when she realizes _she_  caused it.

"I’m mowing your lawn this weekend," Derek says almost ten minutes later, when the lasagna is in the oven and she’s teaching him how to make empanadas. "Just so you know."

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

They go on like this for almost three months. 

Melissa makes sure Derek eats well, Derek keeps her lawn and garden in check, and they end up eating dinner together more and more often. He takes care of her car when it dies, she lets him crash on her couch on Laura’s birthday, and slowly their lives become more intertwined.

* * *

"I just… I just  _miss_ them, you know? Like… it’s been years, and it still hurts like it was yesterday.” Derek is drunk. Well and truly drunk, a bottle of Witch’s Brew dangling from his fingers. “I just miss them so much.”

Melissa cards her fingers through his hair, wondering idly when his head ended up in her lap. Probably sometime between the patient who died under her hands and her fourth (fifth?) glass of whiskey. She shrugs it off and sips her own drink.

"I know, Derek. I know it’s hard." She hiccups quietly. "It’s hard to lose people."

Derek rolls onto his side, cheek against her sweatpants. “I’m so pathetic.”

"You’re  _human_.” That gets a snort out of both of them. “What I mean is, you have feelings. You’re allowed to feel things, Derek.”

He shrugs, setting the bottle on the floor and curling up further.

"I wish I didn’t," he whispers, almost inaudible.

_I know,_ Melissa would reply, but he’s already asleep. 

* * *

Derek shows up at the hospital most Tuesdays, claiming a need to do something on his day off. He’ll bring lunch, something new every time.

"It’s Thai," he announces one Tuesday in early November. "I had to go to Cartersville for some parts, stopped at the Thai place you said you liked."

Angela hip-checks Melissa on her way by, mumbling, “keep this one, he’s amazing.”

Melissa rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t miss Derek’s tiny pleased smile.

"That’s amazing, Derek, thank you." Louder, she says, "I’m taking my lunch break, call me if you need me. Try not to need me."

Derek follows her back to the break room, edging around Tanya and nearly running into D’Asia.

"Sorry, sorry."

D’Asia smirks, eyes roving over him. “Don’t apologize, sugar. You can bump into me any time.”

If Melissa didn’t know better, she’d call Derek’s next move “cowering in fright.” Instead, she’ll call it “tactical evasion.”

"Your coworkers are terrifying," Derek admits when she points out his escape. "I’ve met nicer harpies."

Melissa snorts, forkful of Pad Thai halfway to her mouth. “I remember the harpies. They were some of the worst creatures to come through here. You just prefer violence to sexual aggression.”

"I know how to handle violence," Derek says quietly, poking at his chicken curry. "I’m not so good with people who don’t actually want to eat me."

"I dunno. You’re pretty good at talking to me."

That gets her a deadpan glare, and she can’t help but remember the Derek of old. “You’re not most people, Melissa.”

Melissa decides to ignore the little flutter in her abdomen.

* * *

It’s almost Thanksgiving when shit hits the fan.

They’ve been doing so well— no rogues, no harpies, no covens, no demons, no hunters (besides the ones on their side), no nothing.

Until a slew of random deaths start popping up, starting with a handful of prostitutes and winding up with a couple of soccer moms.

Melissa doesn’t think anything of a man at the grocery store offering to help her to her car. It’s the first time in weeks that she hasn’t shopped with Derek, and several of her items are heavy.

He invites her to dinner, and she doesn’t think anything of leaving her car full of perishables in the parking lot of Arteagas and joining him.

She doesn’t think anything of his charming conversation and his offer to pick up the tab.

She doesn’t think anything of following him back to his hotel room.

She doesn’t think  _anything._

* * *

Melissa wakes to Derek’s roar, halfway down to the bed with the Incubus above her. She struggles, the trance broken, but demons are stronger than she is. 

(Everything is stronger than she is.)

It’s Chris who kills it, gun full of wolfsbane or whatever it is that kills Incubi. Melissa falls to the bed with a sob, and Derek rips the corpse off of her.

"Melissa, you’re okay, we found you, you’re okay." Derek reaches out to touch her, but he retreats. "Are you… can I… what can I do?"

She’s shaking, cold and clammy and  _miserable_ , pissed off at herself for not realizing, at the Incubus for daring to touch her, at the world for not doing something.

But she isn’t pissed at Derek.

"I’m cold." Derek drapes his coat around her, tucking it carefully without touching her skin. "I feel so weak."

Derek almost smiles at that. “You almost fought off an Incubus. I’d say you’re pretty strong.”

He can say it all he wants, but she can’t stand. He ends up carrying her to his car, letting Chris and John deal with the explanations.

"We followed his trail to the market, and I found your car." Derek settles her in the passenger seat and goes around to drive. "I knew you wouldn’t just leave it. I knew you wouldn’t have gone with him on your own."

Melissa rests her head against the window. “I’m so weak, Derek.”

"You’re not weak, Melissa. You never have been."

* * *

Derek sleeps on her couch for two weeks after the Incubus incident. 

Scott doesn’t question it when he gets home, wrapping her up in a tight hug.

"I’m glad he found you," he mumbles into her hair. "I’m glad you have each other."

(So is Melissa.)

* * *

The third Tuesday in December, Derek doesn’t bring lunch. Melissa tries not to be too disappointed that she had to break in to her emergency soup stash. (Everyone should have food in their desk, just in case.)

None of the other nurses say anything, though Paul looks worried when he thinks she isn’t looking.

It’s not like they said it would be every Tuesday, or anything. It was just habit, that’s all. Just habit.

(It’s not like this Tuesday is different from the others.)

She checks her phone constantly, just in case, but it’s just a birthday message from Scott, another from Stiles, and one from Chris with a footnote about some conference in Portland.

When she gets home from work, she doesn’t bother turning on the lights, just dropping her things by the door and padding into the kitchen with a sigh. She doesn’t expect to see Derek, and she sure as  _hell_  doesn’t expect for dinner to be made.

Derek looks like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

"Um… happy birthday," he says with a sheepish grin. "I made fish tacos."

"You made fish tacos," Melissa repeats, deadpan.

"And flan. But you can’t put a candle in flan, so I attempted a tres leches cake." Derek wipes his hands on her ‘bese a la cocinera’ apron. "I hope you don’t mind I did this, I just used the key you gave me."

Melissa’s still a little stunned, but dinner looks amazing.

"This is perfect, Derek. Thank you. I couldn’t have asked for a better birthday dinner."

He lights up with the praise. The biggest smile Melissa has seen spreads across his face, and he ducks his head.

"You deserve a special birthday, and Scott wasn’t here to treat you." He toes at the floor, talking more to the grout than to her. "And I wanted to try some of your recipes. I hope they turned out okay."

"I’m sure they’re wonderful. Let’s sit and eat, yes?"

(Everything is perfect. Melissa will forgive him for skipping lunch.)

* * *

Christmas break comes, and the whole pack floods home. Melissa’s house is filled to the brim with teenagers, including Stiles and his bad new beard, Allison and Lydia and their girlfriend, Hanna, and Scott.

She couldn’t be happier to have the pack home, even if they make her life more hectic.

"I still can’t believe we missed the Incubus," Lydia gripes from her spot under Hanna. "Their blood is very powerful, and Chris didn’t save me a drop."

Melissa rolls her eyes. “They burned the corpse, Lydia. Chris’ mind was on other things.”

Derek doesn’t say anything, but he’s scowling more than Melissa has seen in a while.

"The things I could do with Incubus blood, though."

"He almost fed from Melissa," Derek finally snaps. "We weren’t worried about magic, we were worried about  _pack._ ”

Lydia doesn’t mention the Incubus again. Instead, she just looks back and forth between Derek and Melissa with her eyes narrowed until Hanna pokes her in the side.

Melissa doesn’t dignify it with a response.

Later that night, when the rest of the kids have scattered to their respective homes, Derek stays. He falls asleep on the couch, only stirring when Melissa drapes the blanket over him.

"Had to protect you," he mumbles. "Had to keep you safe."

"I know."

* * *

They do the pack Christmas at Derek’s loft on Christmas Eve, exchanging gifts and drinking egg nog. Erica hangs a piece of mistletoe in the doorway from the kitchen (such as it is), catching several pairs unawares.

Melissa is carrying mugs back into the kitchen as Derek carries a bowl of popcorn out. Erica hoots when they cross paths, starting a chant for them to kiss.

Derek chuckles, eyes locking with Melissa’s before he kisses her softly. It’s quick, and it’s chaste, and it’s basically the nicest kiss Melissa has ever received.

She just puts the mugs on the counter and returns to the armchair— the place of honor, according to Stiles, who hoots when Derek sits at her feet.

"I can’t believe Mr. I’m-the-Alpha would give up his chair for someone else," he teases.

Derek shrugs. “I’m not the Alpha anymore, Scott is. And I know how to show respect, unlike some people.”

"Yeah Stiles, some people have manners," Kira teases, perched in Scott’s lap.

Stiles looks sheepish at that, scooting off of the couch so that Allison can take his place beside Lydia.

Melissa doesn’t say anything, but when Derek looks up at her, she smiles.

(He gives her a bracelet with a charm for each member of the pack. She clasps it on immediately, pleased beyond belief.)

(She gives him a book of poetry, various scholars Lydia has determined were supernatural in some way. He smiles fondly at the inscription,  _To Derek, so that he may remember the humanity in his lycanthropy. Melissa._ )

Christmas morning is spent with Scott over pancakes, but Christmas afternoon is spent with Derek over Thai food. Melissa doesn’t think about the significance, just enjoys the company.

"I love the book," Derek says softly. "I read it all last night, I couldn’t put it down. I can’t imagine the work you put into it."

"Lydia did most of the research. I just laid it all out in order and had it printed." Melissa shrugs, digging into her spicy noodles. "I wanted you to have something special."

"Thank you. It really is."

* * *

January passes the same way, exchanging lawn mowing for driveway salting and casserole-making for recipe-discovering. 

Derek is at lunch every Tuesday without fail, and they buy groceries together on the weekends. John and Chris rib her about her ‘young lover’ when they have dinner, but she doesn’t let it bother her.

Derek is the closest friend she’s had since Claudia died, and even if they’re never romantic, she’s happy with their friendship.

* * *

Valentine’s Day falls on a Tuesday, and Derek brings in flowers along with the usual lunch.

"Ooh, Stars of Bethlehem, your favorites." Angela grins at Derek. "You’ve been paying attention. I approve."

Derek blushes and ducks his head. “I do what I can. They mean ‘hope,’ you know.”

"He’s a keeper," Angela tosses over her shoulder, bumping into Paul.

Derek offers the large box of chocolates to him, obviously less afraid of him than Angela.

"These are for the nurses in the ward," he explains. "I figured it’d be nice, since you have work."

Paul grins, a white splash in his broad, dark face. “These are great, man, thanks. I’d better have one before the others find out they’re here.”

Melissa grins at Derek over their lunch (Chinese this time).

"You’re so nice. I can’t believe you still put up with my crazy coworkers."

Derek’s smile is soft, private. “The company is worth it.”

That night, Derek is in her kitchen making dinner when she gets home, up to his elbows in tomato and spices.

"I wanted to do it right," he explains. "Homemade sauce is always better than jarred."

"I won’t argue. I’m a smart woman, I won’t stop you from pampering me." She pulls a beer out of the fridge for each of them and sits on the barstool to watch him work.

Dinner is perfect, the best pasta she’s had in ages, and she tells him so.

"Thank you. I’m just glad it worked out."

It’s nearly midnight when he leaves,  bounding over her fence and into the woods. Melissa can still feel his lips on her cheek.

* * *

Derek is kidnapped in March.

He doesn’t show up for lunch, he isn’t answering his calls, and one of John’s deputies finds his car with the door ripped off halfway out of town.

Derek is kidnapped, and Melissa has no idea who took him.

That is, until a spiral is carved into her door that night. She calls Stiles, who says it signals revenge, and Scott, who says he’s on his way.

Melissa doesn’t know why any werewolves would want revenge, let alone against her.

She doesn’t know who they are, or why they’ve taken him. All she knows is that Derek is gone, and she isn’t safe.

Chris gives her a gun with wolfsbane bullets, and John gives her a can of wolfsbane pepperspray from Stiles’ stash of inventions.

Derek is gone, and she isn’t safe, no matter how much aconite she carries.

Scott picks up the trail and follows it out of town, toward the territory border with the McNamara pack in Oregon. Melissa drives behind him, Chris calling his contacts as deputies scour the countryside.

They find him in a basement, strapped to a fence and hooked up to wires. Melissa kills the person at the controls without second thought, leaving Scott to take care of the guards.

She kills a man.

She kills a man, but Derek is okay, and that’s all that really matters.

Scott pulls him down from the fence, ripping wires off of him and scenting him with a low continuous whine. Once the alpha in him is satisfied, he goes back out to talk to Chris about damage control.

Melissa gathers Derek into her lap, running her fingers through his hair.

"They thought… they thought I killed one of their packmates," he rasps out, panting. "They aren’t McNamara, they’re someone else. It wasn’t me, but they wouldn’t listen. It wasn’t me, I didn’t kill her. It wasn’t me."

She kisses his forehead, murmurs, “I know,” over and over until he goes quiet. He brings a weak hand up to touch her cheek.

"You’re crying," he whispers.

"I thought I had lost you," she whispers back.

"I’m right here." Derek leans up, and Melissa leans down.

"I know." She kisses him, softly. "I know."

They sit there for a moment, listening to Scott verbally tear Alpha McNamara a new one for neglecting the outskirts of his territory.

“I love you,” Melissa whispers, kissing him again.

Derek chuckles weakly. “I know.” 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here.](rileyrises.tumblr.com)


End file.
